


This Ain't no Pretty Woman

by echoes_of_another_life



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Bottom Jensen Ackles, Derogatory Language, Drug Addiction, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, Eventual Happy Ending, Gun Violence, Happy Ending, M/M, Original Character(s), Rimming, Top Jared Padalecki, Violence, drug addict Jensen, drug dealer Jared Padalecki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 12:02:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13787304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoes_of_another_life/pseuds/echoes_of_another_life
Summary: Bottom line was Jensen was an addict, and a whore, and he didn’t fool himself into thinking he was anything else. But with Jared… Jensen could see how it could work, Jensen and Jared both selling something the other wants. But Jared seemed to think he was buying more than just Jensen’s body, the soft-spoken words, the gentle touches, treating Jensen with care and affection. It was all too much. It made Jensen want more, to hope that maybe, just maybe.





	This Ain't no Pretty Woman

**Author's Note:**

> Written for J2_Jukebox the song being You - by Candelbox and the prompt: Jared is a drug dealer, and Jensen is one of his clients

This Ain’t no Pretty Woman

Jensen cursed as his hand became trapped down the side of the sofa, fingers feeling out the smallest coin, as the agonies ripped through his system. He hadn’t had a hit for almost forty-eight hours, and had scoured his small apartment for the money to buy a bindle. He had sixteen dollars to his name, and he was in urgent need. He vowed he’d never go back to being a bag bride, but desperate times called for desperate measures. 

He stripped himself of his clothes and turned on the shower, easing himself in the small cubicle his heart racing as the palpations took hold, shivering and hoping the hot water would ease some of the muscle tension. He stepped clear of the shower as the nausea overcame him, the sandwich he’d managed at lunch decorating the toilet bowl. 

He brushed his teeth, then held a cold washcloth to his face and counted to ten before taking a deep breath and looking at himself in the mirror. Despite his bloodshot eyes and pale skin, he was handsome, something that boded him well over his fellow addicts when it came to picking up clients, that, and he never injected in the areas most seen. He’d much rather use a 30-gauge nevershare syringe and inject the great saphenous vein in his calf, despite the pain and sensitivity. No one wanted to pay for sex with someone tweaking and covered in track marks. 

He had one Mexican Green left, and sparked it up, hoping it would take the edge off before he made his way out of his apartment, and across the street, hands in his pockets, his head down, not making eye contact with the many bed bugs who lived in the meagre, ramshackle bedsits. All the lonely people, begging, cabbage heads who would do anything for any drug as long as it came with a high, a moment to forget.

It didn’t take him long to get where he was going, his feet pounding the sidewalk, as he neared the combat zone, Jensen pulled himself up to his full height and finding a spot near a street light, all the better to show off what was being offered. It seemed no time at all for a car to pull up beside him. At six feet, dark-blonde hair and green eyes, he was something to behold. That and unlike most of the lick hitters peddling their wares, he was clean, not dirty and dishevelled. 

“What can I do for you?” Jensen asked as the prospective john opened the passenger-side window, leaning in and offering a fake smile. 

“Half and Half.” The guy said, leering at Jensen. 

“You’re aware I don’t have a pussy?” Jensen asked. 

“Son trust me, if you were a split arse I wouldn’t be here.” 

Jensen took a moment to swallow the bile that came with the john’s words, his smile never wavering despite his disgust, both men oblivious of silver Lexus that manoeuvred into the spot not far from them, or the tall, well-dressed man who climbed out of it.

“Where to?” Jensen asked. 

“That alley looks good to me.” The john said, as he climbed out of the car and shoved Jensen roughly toward the passageway. 

“One hundred dollars, and payment up front,” Jensen said as the john forced him up against the wall, both hidden from sight by a dumpster. Jensen was relieved when he took hold of the cash, dropping to his knees as the john unfastened his trousers and pulled out his cock. 

“No teeth now, you hear?” The john said, moaning as Jensen wrapped his mouth around the smaller than average cock. Both were shocked when Jensen was wrenched free, the cold night air replacing the heat of Jensen’s breath.

“What the fuck?” The john hissed not even given time to put right his underwear and trousers before he was hauled up against the wide expanse of Jared’s chest. 

“Leave while you still can,” Jared spat.

“He owes me money.” The john whined.

Jensen watched on his knees in the dirt, as Jared reached inside his pocket, taking a wad of notes out and throwing them on the floor at the feet of the john, who fastened his pants before reaching down to grab the bunch of greens before scurrying away. 

“What did I tell you?” Jared hissed, holding his hand out to help Jensen get to his feet, the taste of the stranger’s cock still in his mouth. “If you need money you come to me.” 

“Don’t’ you push your drugs in my face. I’ll not be indebted to your boss. No thank you,” Jensen said dusting down his trousers. “I have no intention of going back to that whorehouse.” 

“You were Deacon’s best; you won’t stay an outlaw for long, not when he hears you’re back on the beat.”

“Who’s going to tell him, you?” Jensen accused. 

Jensen watched the warring emotions that flittered across Jared’s face. The very real fear should Deacon find out that Jensen was back in the combat zone, worse that Jared had kept it from Deacon. Striking an arrangement with Jensen behind Deacon’s back, it could land them both in serious trouble, but the dread of Jensen back in the whorehouse showed on both their faces. 

“Don’t you know that I’d lie for you?” Jared said.

“And what?” Jensen interrupted. “I let you fuck me instead of some random trick?” 

“Surely that’s better than walking the streets, out of pocket, vulnerable to threats and violence until you’re forced to choose a pimp?” Jared warned. “You know no one dare stand against Deacon. He’ll have you calling him Daddy again in no time.”

Jensen balked at Jared’s words, hearing the truth in them, the genuine terror of being back under Deacon’s thumb paramount. The threats, the beatings, being made to have sex with no protection. The fact that he looked after himself, his looks and physique making him the most sought after in the whorehouse, Deacon forcing one trick after another, sometimes two at a time on Jensen and taking most of Jensen’s earnings, leaving him just enough to feed his habit. 

“I’ll pay for whatever you need, and in turn you stay off the streets,” Jared said watching the war of emotions, the flash of fear evident. 

“Why?” Jensen asked. “You’re Deacon’s right-hand man. Why risk it?”

“Just… you’re worth it,” Jared admitted his face etched with anguish. “You’re better than this.” 

“Please, I’m an addict. I don’t need your pity,” Jensen huffed. “Don’t come pushin' your pain 'round my door.”

“Just take this,” Jared offered, handing Jensen a bindle. “I’ll call around later for payment.” 

Jensen wished not for the first time, that he didn’t need the hit. He wanted nothing more than to say, _fuck you; I don’t want it no more_. But he craved it, the buzz from the Mexican Green wearing off, the shakes threatening. He grabbed the wrap from Jared, shoved it in his pocket and nodded his head, before turning around and making his way to his apartment, his feet picking up the pace the closer to home he got. He fumbled for his keys, missing the lock several times before hearing it click into place.

Jensen was in immediate need of a high, and the quickest way to get that was to inject, but with Jared coming over for payment, he couldn’t risk the drowsiness, needing to be aware of his actions and surroundings. Jensen was terrified he’d displease Jared, cause him to report back to Deacon that Jensen was once again fair game. 

He made two neat little lines on his coffee table, using his driving licence, making sure the lines were as thick as a pencil before making his way to the kitchen where he hid his box of drug paraphernalia, and taking out a straw. He’d started out using a twenty dollar bill until someone pointed out to him about how dirty notes where. That and he didn’t always have twenty dollars.

He took a deep breath, and held one nostril closed with his finger as he lowered his head to the coffee table, sliding the straw across the line of cocaine, inhaling the whole time until it was all up his nose. Jensen breathed out, careful not to blow the other line off the table, and repeated the motion. 

Jensen took a minute, before relaxing back on the sofa, his entire body at ease, the pain of the past couple of days slowly ebbing away as he felt the drug blanket his soul. He must have fallen asleep, roused from his slumber to Jared shouting, his fist pounding on the door. 

“Wake up the entire neighbourhood why don’t you?” Jensen said by way of greeting. 

“You weren’t answering, and… Jared shook his head and breathed out.

“And what?” Jensen accused. “You were worried about me?”

“Dammit Jensen, why do have to make this so hard?” Jared demanded. “You keep pushing me away.” 

“Because you’re Deacon’s catcher,” Jensen said a worried look about his face. “I’ve seen what you do to people who can’t pay, or who owe Deacon in some way.” 

“I’d never hurt you,” Jared confessed, reaching out a hand to touch Jensen. 

“Just… let’s do this already,” Jensen said, the sooner he gave Jared what he wanted the sooner he’d leave. 

“If that’s the way you want it,” Jared said, his breath released on a deep sigh. He unbuckled his pants shoving them roughly to his feet along with his boxer shorts, before taking himself in his hand, fisting up, and down until his cock was hard and heavy. 

“On your knees,” Jared ordered. He was determined to do this Jensen’s way, but couldn’t resist taking a moment to savour just how beautiful Jensen was, how gorgeous he looked on his knees. Jared reached down, thumb stoking across Jensen’s bottom lip, before cupping his hand against Jensen’s cheek. 

Jensen reared back, looking up at Jared with defiance. This was the reason Jensen continually balked at the arrangement Jared had been trying to force him into for months. If it were any other john he would jump at the chance to get off the streets, but Jared? 

Bottom line was Jensen was an addict, and a whore, and he didn’t fool himself into thinking he was anything else. But with Jared… Jensen could see how it could work, Jensen and Jared both selling something the other wants. But Jared seemed to think he was buying more than just Jensen’s body, the soft-spoken words, the gentle touches, treating Jensen with care and affection. It was all too much. It made Jensen want more, to hope that maybe, just maybe. 

Jensen’s line of work, his habit didn’t leave room for hope or the possibility of a future and that hurt more than he’d admit.

The pain in his heart was real. 

“Okay you win,” Jared said, grabbing Jensen’s hair and dragging him closer, taking a hold of his cock once more, rubbing it against Jensen’s full bottom lip, moaning out loud when Jensen opened up and let him in. 

This was familiar ground for Jensen, sex he could do and the harder Jared forced himself into Jensen’s mouth the better. He had no delusions of grandeur. He was a whore, something Jared could do well to remember. 

“Look at me,” Jared demanded, grabbing Jensen’s attention, and moaning when Jensen lifted his gaze, and fluttered his eyelashes, something he’d learned to do when he first rented out his body. A john needs to feel like he’s the only person in the world who matters, the best Jensen ever had, which wasn’t hard when it came to Jared. 

Though Jensen was loathe to admit it, even though he’d never had sex with Jared, never even kissed him, he got pleasure from taking Jared’s cock into his mouth. Jared’s length was much more impressive than most clients and he smelled clean, tasted like iced water on a hot summer afternoon, refreshing and a panacea to his soul, making him forget for a little while just how crappy his life was. 

“Open up, that’s it,” Jared coaxed as Jensen relaxed his throat and sealed his mouth around Jared’s cock. “You know you like it.” 

And that therein lay the problem. Jensen did like it. He liked it more than he cared to admit, and it scared the life out of him. 

Jensen was ripped from his thoughts when Jared tightened the hold he had on Jensen’s hair to keep him steady while he fucked his way into Jensen’s mouth, no finesse just carnal desire that had Jared shooting his load into Jensen’s mouth. 

“There, that wasn’t so bad was it?” Jared said pulling up his pants and tucking himself back into his boxer shorts before helping Jensen to his feet, tugging Jensen forward when he made to move away. “Not so fast.” 

Jared refused to let go of his hold on Jensen, both standing toe to toe, as Jared curved a hand around the back of Jensen’s skull, fingers easing through the short, spikey tufts.

“Kiss me,” Jared urged, his free hand falling to Jensen’s waist, fingers taking hold of Jensen’s belt and tugging hard. “Come on,” Jared continued, lowering his head to capture Jensen’s mouth, his lips skirting Jensen’s cheek when he turned his head. Jared not to be thwarted, planted open-mouthed kisses along Jensen’s throat. 

“You know you want to,” Jared whispered the words, his breath hot against Jensen’s ear. 

Jensen fought tooth and nail, but he was overwhelmed, swamped with the need to reciprocate, even his goosebumps had goosebumps. His balled his hands into fists to stop himself reaching out, his fingernails leaving crescent-shaped marks on his palms.

“Please,” Jared breathed, tugging on Jensen once more, closer until not a whisper of air could find as much of a fissure between them, Jared not above begging when it came to what he wanted. 

Jared was so close to Jensen; he could virtually taste the minty freshness of Jared’s breath, just an inch away. A slight turn of the head and Jensen was there, his mouth crushed beneath Jared’s, Jensen opening up for Jared’s tongue. Jared moaned, no doubt relishing the taste of himself when he pushed his tongue into Jensen’s mouth, almost as if he’d staked his claim. 

“Are you done?” Jensen asked, putting both hands on Jared’s chest and pushing him away. 

“Not even close,” Jared replied, feeling behind him for the door handle, taking out a bindle of coke and handing it to Jensen, waiting until Jensen reached forward and took the small wrap. “I’ll be back,” Jared warned. 

Jensen waited until Jared closed the door behind him before leaning back against it, knowing he was well and truly screwed. As far as he was concerned, Jared was just a step down from Deacon, and Jensen knew, you did not mess with Deacon Santora. 

Jensen had no sooner pulled himself together when there was a knock on his door, he was worried it was a neighbour annoyed at the racket Jared had caused, knocking and shouting at his door. He took a second, an apology already forming when he opened his door.

“Are you okay?” 

“What? Yes, I’m fine why?” Jensen said, looking up and down the corridor, and finding no one else, just Mitchell. 

“I just… was that Jared Padalecki?” Mitchell asked. “I saw him leave and was worried for you.”

“I’m good, thanks for asking,” Jensen said about to close the door, when Mitchell’s tone changed. 

“So, what did he want?” Mitchell pushed. “You don’t have any bruises.”

“Mind your business,” Jensen warned. 

“How about I ask Deacon?” 

The fear of Deacon finding out about him and Jared slammed hard at Jensen’s chest. He was sure he could feel his heart knocking against his rib cage. Jensen reached forward his hand to Mitchell’s throat as; he forced him back against the wall.

“I said, mind your business,” Jensen repeated, squeezing until Mitchell turned blue. He wasn’t an aggressive person, but when it came to self-preservation, of Deacon finding out, it only served to spur Jensen on. 

“Go,” Jensen demanded, both angry and scared. 

“I just thought if Jared is doing house calls, or you’re handing out freebies than we should all get a fair share.” 

Jensen shook his head. The only answer was the slamming of his door. 

…

Jared steered the Lexus into the driveway and turned off the engine, straightening his suit jacket before making his way into the club. The neon sign flashed “Paradise City”, despite it being mostly known as the whorehouse. It wasn’t hard to find Deacon, his huge frame seated, relaxed on one of the many sofas with Delia and Chantelle draping themselves over him. Jared hoped he was in a good mood the leftover bindles scattered on the small table in front of them a sure sign he’d been partaking. It was something Jared never did, he was the muscle, earning a pretty penny for his skills at making people pay, but his earnings went straight into a savings account, not up his nose. 

“Leave me,” Deacon said, squaring his shoulders as both women sat up straight, getting to their feet to leave, one reaching out to take one of the many bindles and screaming in agony when Deacon grabbed a hold of her wrist and bent it back. “Did I say you could take that?” 

“No sir,” Delia cried. 

“Then what gives you the right to take it?” Deacon asked, stopping short of breaking her wrist. 

“I’m sorry,” Delia said quietly, gritting her teeth against the pain. “Please, it hurts.”

“Please what?” Deacon said, squeezing just a little more. 

“Daddy,” Delia said, as Deacon released his hold on her and shoved her away, Delia struggling to keep upright while she supported her injured wrist. 

“So, talk to me,” Deacon said, uncaring of Delia’s pain and offering Jared a seat opposite him. 

“It’s all good,” Jared said, reaching inside his jacket and pulling out a large wad of notes. 

“Everybody paid their way?” Deacon asked taking the money and flicking through the Benjamin Franklins seemingly satisfied. “Any rough stuff?”

“None,” Jared was happy to inform. 

“Anything I should know about?” 

“There’s a newcomer to the combat zone,” Jared said. “She’s a pretty young thing.” Jared having no qualms when it came to making her Deacon’s business.

“How old?” Deacon asked sitting forward, the sofa creaking under his weight, interest evident as his eyes locked with Jared’s. 

“Eighteen, possibly twenty,” Jared advised, trying not to fidget beneath Deacon’s gaze. There weren’t many people could intimidate Jared. He wouldn’t be good at his job if they were, but Deacon? 

Jared was tall, standing six foot four inches, and wide at the shoulder. He didn’t have to crane his neck to look up to people, other than Deacon, who had several inches over Jared, and his muscular arms were almost the size of Jared’s thighs. That and he was a mean son of a bitch, with no reservations when it come to dishing out pain. 

“Bring her to me,” Deacon ordered lighting up a reefer, Jared shook his head when Deacon offered him a toke. 

“I’ll pick her up tomorrow,” Jared said, glad that the conversation was over, and he could leave. Normally, he was quite relaxed around Deacon. He was good at his job and never wavered when it came to putting the trade in their place, no reason to fear Deacon, but that was before Jensen.

Jared remembered the first time he’d met Jensen, almost two years ago. He’d been fresh to the combat zone. His baby-face making him appear younger than his twenty-two years, which was something that went down well with the johns. Jared had spent almost the entire day watching as car after car pulled up beside Jensen, and knew it wouldn’t be long before he was brought to Deacon’s attention. Best it come from Jared, not wanting to stir Deacon’s wrath. Deacon was eager to have Jensen added to his stable. Jensen was young and naive enough to agree to Deacon’s terms. A roof over his head and all the drugs he needed until Jensen was hooked. Then the tables turned, the freebies coming at a higher and higher price. 

Deacon dishing out as much punishment as happy pills. 

He remembered the first time he’d seen Jensen with a black eye, and knew he must have royally pissed Deacon off. Jared knew it was bad for business to have any of his whores sporting bruises where they could be seen, much rather a punch to the ribs, or a kick to the balls. Mostly, the threat of withdrawing their supply was enough, which made Jared curious as to what Jensen had done. He told himself it wasn’t his concern, but he’d brought Jensen to Deacon, watched as he’d become hooked on whatever Deacon was peddling, enough that he’d do anything for a high.

Jared tried to convince himself that he felt responsible, but he’d brought many a newcomer to Deacon without a care in the world, handed them over like chattel, but he just couldn’t reconcile his actions when it came to Jensen. 

“Tomorrow, let’s see how easy it’s going to be to break the bitch,” Deacon said dismissing Jared with a wave of his hand. 

Jared waited until he’d closed the door behind before taking a deep breath.

…

The first thing Jensen did upon waking up was take a hit from the coke Jared had left, trying to ignore how good it felt to wake up with a high, not having to beg, steal or borrow to get a fix. He grabbed his jeans from the previous day, and pulled out the hundred dollars, relieved that he could buy some groceries, fed up of living hand to mouth. 

He finished the second line before making his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth; convinced he could still taste Jared in his mouth.

He shook his head at the thought that he could get used to this, not having to worry where his next bindle was coming from, food in his belly. Most of all not having to work the streets.

He was coming back from the grocery store, hands busy with several bags of food, jiggling them around as he put his key in the lock, when he noticed Mitchell standing four doors down. The other man didn’t say anything, just eyed Jensen and his wares suspiciously. Once again, Jensen kicking the door shut behind him was his only response.

Jensen put away his purchases leaving out the ingredients to make a cheeseburger and fries. It was mid-afternoon when he heard the knock at the door, someone trying the handle and finding the door locked, Jensen not the least bit surprised to see Jared standing in the hallway outside his apartment. 

“Get in here,” Jensen demanded, taking hold of Jared’s suit jacket and dragging him inside.

“How flattering,” Jared said, straightening his clothes.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to… it’s just; people are talking,” Jensen rushed to say. 

“Who’s talking?” Jared insisted.

“Mitchell for one, he saw you leave last night,” Jensen said trying not to sound afraid, or panicked, when he was both. “He threatened to go to Deacon.”

“Wait, where are you going?” Jensen exclaimed, grabbing a hold of Jared’s arm and forcing him to a standstill. 

“To advise the cheap ass ho to mind his own business,” Jared spat, dragging his arm free of Jensen’s hold. 

“Please, you’ll only make it worse,” Jensen pleaded. 

“I won’t have him threatening you,” Jared said, taking a deep breath. “And I sure as Hell won’t be threatened by him!” 

“Can we just leave it for now?” Jensen all but begged. “If he continues, then you can deal with it your way, but right now don’t stir the pot.”

“You’ll tell me if he carries on?” 

“I swear,” Jensen promised. 

“Good, and now the reason I came,” Jared said, as Jensen stepped into Jared’s space, and tugged on his pants. “Not that, I’d love nothing more, but I have business in the combat zone. I just wanted to give you this.” 

Jensen watched as Jared took a step back, removed a package from his jacket pocket, and handed it to Jensen. 

“It has my number programmed in, if you need me…”

Jensen looked down at the smart phone in his hand, and back to Jared.

“Don’t sell it,” Jared warned. “If you need a fix, hit my number.” 

Jensen nodded, relieved when Jared handed him a couple of bindles, which Jensen gladly pocketed before opening his door and checking the hallway was clear before ushering Jared out.

“Just say the word,” Jared said, glancing down the corridor to Mitchell’s apartment. 

Jensen shook his head, scared it would make matters worse. 

Jared took one last look at Jensen before nodding his head and making his way downstairs to where he’d left his car. It stuck out like a sore thumb in such a deprived area, something he’d need to think about if he were to make his arrangement with Jensen permanent. 

He scanned the area, sure no one was around to pay him any mind and steered the car to the combat zone, slowing down as he passed the many hookers, letting it be known he was in the area. It did well to remind them, which side of their bread was buttered. Most weren’t clean enough, to work the whorehouse, too hooked to care about anything but the drug they poisoned their system with, but still, Deacon took a hefty percentage of their earnings. 

It didn’t take him long to find the newcomer, her skirt hiking up her thighs, her legs long and tanned as she leaned in the window of the expensive Bentley. Jared flashed his lights, grabbing the john’s attention and pulling up as the john cranked his engine and left. 

“Get in,” Jared said, leaning over and opening the passenger door. 

The newcomer eyed Jared, fear evident in her gaze, it being obvious that word had gotten around to her just who Jared was, and more importantly, who he worked for. 

“What’s your name?” Jared asked, watching as she climbed into the passenger seat and tried to lower her skirt, her top showing just the right amount of cleavage. 

“Shelly, my name’s Shelly,” she said, keeping her eyes downcast, her long blonde hair hiding her face as she fought to avoid any contact with Jared. 

“How old are you?” Jared continued.

“Nineteen,” Shelly said, her voice hushed, as she clasped her hands together in her lap, Jared noticing her well-manicured nails and wondering how the hell she’d found herself working the zone. 

“Buckle up Shelly,” Jared advised. “We’re going for a ride.” 

It didn’t take long to reach Paradise City, Shelly quiet for the entire drive, Jared walking around the car to open the door for her as she remained seated, her knuckles white as she clasped her hands tighter. 

“Come on,” Jared urged as he took a hold of Shelly’s arm and pulled her from the vehicle, half walking, half dragging her into the club to where Deacon was waiting. 

“Stand up straight,” Deacon ordered as Jared led her to Deacon’s sofa and released his hold on Shelly. “Shoulders back.” 

“Are they real or fake?” Deacon asked, his eyes drawn to Shelly’s ample cleavage.

“Real,” Shelly said, quietly.

“Speak up girl,” Deacon instructed. 

“They’re real,” Shelly said, finding her voice. 

“You have spunk.” Deacon grinned, looking to Jared and back to Shelly. “I like that.”

“Now turn around,” Deacon urged, taking in Shelly’s figure her pert behind and long shapely legs. 

“What brings you to the combat zone?” Deacon asked. 

“My boyfriend,” Shelly replied, taking a deep breath. “He said he’d leave me if I didn’t keep him supplied.”

“Some boyfriend,” Jared said. 

“I love him,” Shelly admitted, fighting the tears that threatened.

“Well, you have two options,” Deacon began. “You can either walk the zone, at the mercy of whatever john picks you up, unprotected, at risk of beatings and disease. Alternatively, you can trade up and work here. Either way, I take a cut of your earnings.” 

“I…” Shelly stuttered. 

“Here you get a bed, meals, a doctor on call, and more importantly all the drugs you want,” Deacon offered. “Trust me, a pretty young thing like you wouldn’t last five minutes on the street with no protection.” 

“The choice is yours,” Deacon finished the bait set. 

“What about Jimmy?” Shelly asked, nervously. 

“If you want to share then you’ll have to work twice as hard,” Deacon lied. 

Jared watched as Deacon set the trap, casting the line and reeling it in. He knew the score, had seen many an addict fall for Deacon’s promises. A roof over their heads beat the uncertainty of the streets, the very real fear of winding up in a dumpster. The buffet of clean drugs, not having to worry about spiked opioid overdoses. 

Jared knew once the contract was signed there was no going back, the free drugs the bait, knowing it would only be a few weeks before they could not last a day without a hit, desperate, willing to do anything Deacon asked as long as he supplied them with what they needed. 

Jimmy soon to be forgotten.

“Sign the contract and if you’re not happy there’s an exit fee, ten thousand, and you’re free,” Deacon promised. 

Jared knew ten thousand didn’t seem too much at the beginning considering Shelly was sitting on a gold mine, but he knew the way Deacon’s stable worked. They were all hooked on so much shit; every dime of their earnings went into feeding their habit, Deacon taking more and more making it impossible to save ten dollars never mind ten thousand. 

“I need to speak to Jimmy,” Shelly said, but Jared could see her wavering, the same way he’d watched Jensen waver when he was offered the same deal. 

“Give him these,” Deacon offered, handing over a number of bindles of cocaine. “A freebie, to help make up his mind.

There was no freedom, even after paying the exit fee. Jensen had learned the hard way. 

Jared could still recall the day Jensen approached Deacon and slammed the ten thousand dollars down on the table, and demanded his freedom. He was thin, and bruised and desperate for an out, the only person to fulfil his contractual obligations. 

Deacon cut him loose and put the word out to all nearby dealers that they weren’t to supply Jensen. Deacon expecting Jensen to come back tail between his legs when his supply was cut off. 

But he didn’t, the past few months he’d been getting his drugs from Jared, the same way he’d gotten his exit fee, although unbeknownst. If Deacon found out it was Jared to slip the envelope of cash under Jensen’s door, he’d be a dead man.

“You have until five o’clock tomorrow,” Deacon said, dragging Jared from his musings both knowing that Jimmy would agree. He had no qualms about prostituting his girlfriend. The very idea of free drugs would doubt have him singing and dancing at the idea of Deacon’s deal.

“Jared will drive you home,” Deacon offered, signalling to Jared that he wanted to talk. 

“What’s up?” Jared asked. 

“I want you to pay Mason at the Alibi Room a visit,” Dean said, “Word is he’s trying to put together a stable.”

“Consider it done,” Jared said, taking his keys from his trouser pocket. 

“And Jared?” Deacon continued, holding Jared’s stare.

“Yes.” Jared wavered.

“No holding back.”

…

Jared pulled up outside the Alibi Room after dropping Shelly at her apartment, making sure there was no one around to fuck with his car, as the Alibi Room was situated in a shithole. He straightened his jacket and pushed open the door, all heads turning to eyeball Jared. 

“What can I do for you?” The barman asked.

“Where I can find Mason?” Jared demanded. 

“He’s not to be disturbed.” The barman warned. 

“Never mind I’ll find him myself,” Jared said looking around and seeing the door marked manager. He walked up and turned the door handle before shoving the door with his shoulder walking in and raising his eyebrow at Mason. 

“Nice,” Jared said, loud enough to be heard over Mason’s grunting, his pants and underwear bunched around his ankles as he fucked his way into the woman bent over the desk. 

“You better have a hell of a good reason,” Mason said, pulling out of the woman, tucking his cock back into his boxer shorts, and turning around as he readjusted his trousers.

“Padalecki,” Mason gasped, shoving the women in the direction of the door, not caring that she was only partially dressed, with her panties in her hands. “What can I do for you?”

“You can start by telling me what the fuck you’re doing, pulling the trade off the street and setting up shop,” Jared demanded. 

“It’s just the lick hitters,” Mason whined. “It’s not like I’m touching the good ones, I wouldn’t.”

Jared knew if he waited, without uttering a word - Mason would fill the silence.

“I swear,” Mason rushed to add. “Please, you have to believe me.”

“Deacon wants half of your cut,” Jared said. “Those are the terms.”

“I can’t,” Mason said, changing his tone. “By the time the whores have taken their earnings, there will be nothing left.”

“That’s not Deacon’s problem,” Jared said, totally uncaring. “That’s the offer.”

 

“Let me talk to Deacon,” Mason pleaded.

“You talk to me. You talk to Deacon,” Jared said, confidently. “I’ll take first payment now.” 

“I can’t pay,” Mason said adamantly.

“There’s no such word as can’t,” Jared said his anger surfacing. There was no way he was going to report to Deacon empty handed. 

“Then I won’t,” Mason said, hoping to pull himself up to his full height, trying and failing to look intimidating. 

“Is that how it’s gonna be?” Jared said, the punch totally unexpected, as it connected hard with Mason’s face, the second shattering Mason’s cheekbone. 

“There’s plenty more where they came from,” Jared warned. 

“I’m not scared of you,” Mason said, spitting blood out onto his office floor.” 

“Then you’re stupid as well as reckless,” Jared said eating up the space that separated him from Mason, grabbing Mason by the throat and slamming him hard against the wall. 

“You want to change your mind?” Jared offered, squeezing Mason’s throat and cutting off his air supply. Listening as Mason gagged, fighting to breathe, sucking in air as Jared loosened his hold for a moment. “You can either pay or eat a bullet,” Jared demanded, pulling the revolver from the back of his trousers and forcing it into Mason’s mouth. 

“Please,” Mason choked. 

“That’s it,” Jared pushed, “Keep on begging. Beg for more.”

“I haven’t got five thousand,” Mason, said, coughing and trying to breathe when Jared tightened his hold once more, easing the gun from Mason’s mouth and cocking it, the sound of the bullet entering the chamber putting the real fear of death into Mason, Jared looking down at the wet patch that was forming in Mason’s trousers. 

“Please, in the drawer,” Mason pleaded, 

Jared eyed Mason, pinning him to the wall with his stare as he opened the top drawer of the desk, reaching in and taking out a wad of cash. Counting out five thousand and leaving what was left, which wasn’t a lot. 

“See, Deacon is fair. He doesn’t want it all, just his share,” Jared said. “And next time show some respect,” Jared said, taking a hold of the back of Mason’s skull and shoving his head against the desk. 

It was getting dark when Jared left the bar, his car in one piece, his knuckles a little sore from landing such a hard combination of punches. He was tired and hungry and wanted nothing more than to sink into Jensen’s ass. He cranked the engine and drove to the nearest pizza parlour ordering a Chicago deep dish, and an original Neapolitan. He held both in his arms as he knocked on Jensen’s door. 

“Please tell me you haven’t left the car outside?” Jensen asked, checking Mitchell wasn’t outside before closing the door. 

“I mean it,” Jared warned, putting the pizzas on the coffee table and walking into to the kitchen as if he owned the place. “I won’t be dictated to by a fucking tweaker.” 

“What’s going on here?” Jensen asked. 

“What do you mean?” Jared asked, coming back into the room holding two plates.

“The visits, the pizza, the free drugs?” Jensen said curiously. “Next you’ll be asking for a key.”

“About that,” Jared began. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” Jensen exclaimed. 

“I keep odd hours,” Jared said, watching Jensen frown. “I don’t want to attract the attention of the neighbours by knocking so late at night.” 

“Mitchell you mean?” Jensen said the fear back. 

“Leave Mitchell to me,” Jared promised. “Just eat your pizza.” 

Jensen shook his head, taking the plate with the pizza and settling down on the sofa, Jared copying Jensen and doing the same. 

“Don’t you have a home to go to?” Jensen said when Jared took up two-thirds of the sofa, and pressed up against Jensen.

“I do,” Jared said, smiling at Jensen.

“Then why don’t you go there?” 

“Because it’s missing something,” Jared confessed. 

“What?” Jensen said, looking down to Jared’s hand, which had settled on his knee.

“You,” Jared replied, working his hand up Jensen’s leg and squeezing his thigh.

“I don’t understand you,” Jensen confessed. 

“Would you much rather have some random john’s cock in your mouth, or mine?” Jared asked. “Or spread your ass cheeks to someone who couldn’t give a fuck about keeping you protected.”

“I just… but why?” Jensen said, confused. “I’ve seen what you’re capable of so why the niceties?” 

“I don’t care what you’ve heard or seen, just know that I would never hurt you,” Jared stated holding eye contact. “Or let anyone else for that matter.” 

Jensen nodded, grateful for Jared’s protection, but knowing when it came to Deacon, they were both in it up to their necks. 

“So do you want to do this here, or in the bedroom?” Jared asked having waited for the pizza to settle. 

“The bedroom,” Jensen replied, getting to his feet, Jared close behind. He kept his back to Jared as he opened the drawer and took out a condom and lube, setting them aside on the pillow as he began to take off his clothes. 

“Turn around,” Jared demanded as Jensen removed his T-shirt, and stepped out of his jeans and boxer shorts. 

Jensen sucked in a breath and turned around to face Jared, keeping his gaze downcast as he did with most clients. 

“Look at me,” Jared said, catching his breath when Jensen looked up and across to Jared, his green eyes registering boldness, no fear or nervousness, something Jared approved of. He didn’t want to force Jensen or have him feel indebted to Jared, though he was, Jared much rather they meet on equal terms.

“On the bed,” Jared demanded as he removed his suit jacket and unfasted his tie, watching Jensen the whole time as he divested himself of the rest of his clothes. 

“I knew you’d be gorgeous,” Jared whispered, almost to himself as Jensen settled on all fours and presented his ass to Jared. Jared’s cock was hard as he kicked off his boxer shorts and made his way over the bed. He wanted nothing more than to sink his cock into Jensen’s ass, but he’d waited almost two years to have Jensen, naked and spread open in front of him and wanted to make it memorable. 

“So beautiful,” Jared murmured as he knelt behind Jensen and spread his ass cheeks, flattening his tongue against Jensen’s puckered entrance and hearing Jensen moan. Jared had never fucked with the trade before. He knew it was Jensen’s job to pleasure Jared, but he wanted an honest reaction from Jensen, to feel wanted rather than serviced. 

…

Jensen wanted to please Jared, mostly because he owed him for the drugs, not wanting his supply to run dry, and finding himself forced back to the whorehouse and Deacon, but there was no denying the heat from Jared’s mouth. His tongue pushed past the barrier of muscle and into Jensen’s ass, Jensen’s cock was so hard it was almost painful. He moaned as Jared licked in and around his ass, coaxing Jensen to open up. His fingers massaged Jensen’s ass cheeks, forcing them to part, as Jared reached for the lube and the condom.

“Just…” Jared took a deep breath and pinched the end of the condom before rolling it down over the length of his cock. “I need a minute,” Jared admitted. He’d waited so long for this and was in danger of embarrassing himself as he coated the condom with lube, the feel of his fingers on his cock almost too much. 

“Come on,” Jensen urged, glancing back over his shoulder and seeing the fleeting emotions flicker over Jared’s face. Jared’s hazel eyes were dark with desire, his cheeks flushed and his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he fought for control. He waited until Jared nodded his head, then took hold of Jensen’s hips and breached the barrier of muscle, thrusting hard and fast into Jensen’s ass. 

“Oh God,” Jared moaned as Jensen took the impressive length of Jared’s cock, clenching his muscles, and welcoming the intrusion. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” Jared confessed, betraying his emotions, but needing his time with Jensen to be something more than a clinical fuck, a debt paid.

“Show me,” Jensen urged, as Jared withdrew, paused a second before slamming back in, all tenderness falling by the wayside as Jared gave in to both his and Jensen’s needs. 

Jared reached around Jensen’s hip, finding Jensen’s cock, feeling it firm and heavy in his hand, a sure sign that Jensen was taking as much pleasure from their time together as Jared, knowing you couldn’t fake a hard on. Jared’s discovery spurred him on, slamming into Jensen, once and again, circling his hips until he found the spot that had Jensen crying out, Jared wanting to tell Jensen how he felt inside, but not wanting to scare Jensen away. Instead, he let his actions speak, as he thrust in repeatedly, fisting Jensen as he found the perfect rhythm, Jensen coming seconds before Jared. 

Jared was the first to move, though he was loathe to, he wanted nothing more than to pull Jensen close, and hold him as, they both slept, but he knew Jensen wouldn’t go for it. He saw the fear and the panic in Jensen’s eyes every time he tried to show how much he cared. 

“About that key?” Jared reminded Jensen as both men reached for their clothes and got dressed. 

“I’ll have one made tomorrow,” Jensen promised, watching as Jared tucked his tie into his pocket and pulled on his jacket. 

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jared said, offering Jensen a genuine smile.

Jared checked his watch as he closed Jensen’s door behind him, it was almost nine o’clock, time enough to take a drive through the combat zone, his presence making it known that Deacon was always watching. He made his way outside, shocked to find Mitchell leaning against his car.

“What does he have that the rest of us don’t?” Mitchell said all false bravado, the need for a high making him restless, and spurring him on. 

“First,” Jared demanded. “Get your skanky ass away from my car.”

“And second,” Jared continued, grabbing a hold of Mitchell and slamming his face-first into the concrete wall. “Don’t ever presume to threaten me.”

“I just want my fair share,” Mitchell whined, crying aloud as Jared tugged his head back and rammed his face back against the wall again.

“Perhaps if you took a shower and washed the grease from your hair you wouldn’t have to go without,” Jared said. “But don’t ever try to push your face up in my business.” 

Jared grabbed Mitchell’s jacket and forced him to turn around, his back to the wall, the bruises already forming on Mitchell’s face. “Not ever, do you hear me?”

“I hear you,” Mitchell said, wincing against the pain.

Jared got into his car, leaving Mitchell slumped against the wall, Jared sure he had scared him into silence. He made two circles of the zone seeing nothing out of the ordinary before reporting to Deacon, Jared pulled the five thousand from Mason from his jacket and dropped it on the table in front of Deacon. 

“Any problems?” Deacon asked, looking at the bruises forming on Jared’s knuckles. 

“The trumped-up wannabe pissed himself,” Jared told Deacon, both men sharing a laugh at Mason’s expense. “I don’t think we’ll be having any problems there.”

“Excellent,” Deacon said, smiling wide. 

“If that’s it?” Jared said, jingling his car keys. 

“You can go,” Deacon said waving his hand toward the door a sure sign that Jared was being dismissed. “Don’t forget to pick Shelly up tomorrow.” 

“Sure thing,” Jared said, making his way outside and taking in a lungful of fresh air. 

It was past eleven when Jared put the key in the lock, punching in the alarm code, kicking off his shoes and hanging up his jacket. He took a moment to empty his pockets and remove his gun before going to the kitchen and grabbing a cold beer from the fridge, popping the cap and taking a long pull. He was still full from the pizza, but that didn’t stop him grabbing an apple as he went into the living room and sank down onto the sofa resting his socked feet on the coffee table as he leaned back, thoughts on Mitchell, and the threat he posed. He could have bought him off with freebies, but Jared Padalecki did not bow and scrape, not to any one, especially some tweaker. He was stilling running through the possibilities when he stepped into the shower. 

He could find somewhere for Jensen to live, someplace better than the shithole neighbourhood where he was, well away from the likes of Mitchell and their prying eyes. Nothing fancy, something small and free from the dangers posed by other addicts. That was whether Jensen was agreeable to such a move, to be obligated to Jared for more than the drugs. At least now, all he owed was the bindles Jared so readily supplied. Still, it was worth thinking about, Jared’s heart doing somersaults at the idea of Jensen being safe, and looked after as well as being at Jared’s disposal. 

He was still mulling it over when he awoke the next morning, imagining what it would be like occasionally waking up next to Jensen. The slow, easy lovemaking contrary to just fucking, which Jensen seemed to prefer. He knew it was Jensen’s fear of getting close, allowing himself to enjoy someone being there and then having the rug pulled out from beneath him, Jensen did not want to offer his heart, or his affections, while Jared on the other hand was holding out for the day when Jensen could give both freely and without hesitation.

…

Jensen was returning from having a key cut for Jared when he bumped into Mitchell, who put his head down and tried to scurry past Jensen. 

“Hey, slow down,” Jensen said, reaching for Mitchell’s arm and spinning him around, the gasp of shock audible at seeing the scrapes and bruises on Mitchell’s face. “What the hell!”

“It’s nothing,” Mitchell replied, trying to pull free. “It was a rough john, nothing to concern yourself with.”

Jensen watched as Mitchell put as much distance between himself and Jensen, rushing to unlock his door and disappear inside. 

Jensen was still reeling when Jared arrived at his apartment, unlocking the door for Jared and stepping back as he entered. 

“What the fuck did you do?” 

“I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to give some more to go on,” Jared said attempting light-hearted humour in the face of Jensen’s anger. 

“Mitchell,” Jensen said blowing out a breath. 

“I told you, I won’t have him threatening you,” Jared said, not in the least bit sorry. 

“You agreed to wait,” Jensen accused. 

“That was before I found him draped all over my car,” Jared shot back.

“Shit.” Jensen paced his apartment. “We’re dead,” Jensen hissed. “We’re both dead men.”

“Relax, he won’t say a word,” Jared persuaded, holding out two bindles of cocaine, snatching his hand back when Jensen made a move to grab them. “Kiss me,” Jared demanded, delighted when Jensen stepped into his arms and shoved his hands in Jared’s hair, pulling him down. 

“God yes,” Jared moaned before sealing his lips around Jensen’s willing mouth, finding Jensen’s tongue and stroking it with his own. 

“I wish I could stay,” Jared murmured, coming up for air and resting his forehead against Jensen’s. 

Jensen stepped back, holding his hand out to Jared for the two small packages, not saying a word at Jared’s confession. Instead, he walked over to the coffee table to retrieve the key, and handed it to Jared. 

“I was thinking,” Jared began, pocketing the key. “How do you feel about me renting you an apartment, somewhere quiet, safe?”

“What the hell are you doing?” Jensen said, aghast at Jared’s words.

“Anywhere has got to be better than this,” Jared pushed. 

“Don’t you see what you’re doing?” Jensen asked his anger and fear surfacing. “You’re painting a target on my back.” Jensen ran his fingers through his hair, fighting for control over his fear. “If Deacon doesn’t come after me, then some other… there will always be someone like Mitchell, jealous of all the attention, and wanting a slice of the pie.”

“I told you, I won’t let anyone hurt you,” Jared promised. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Jensen said, fist closed tight around the wraps in his hand, knowing Jared would be back, not settling for a simple kiss for payment. He walked into the kitchen and took the small box from the cupboard, opening it and dropping a bindle inside, and taking out a straw, needing a fix, if only to chase the fear away. 

…

Jared was surprised not to see Shelly standing in her spot as he cruised the zone, turning the car around and heading to where he’d dropped her off the day before, rapping his knuckles against the door, Shelly answering, her face tear stained. 

“I was just saying goodbye,” Shelly sniffled.

Jared tried to mask the disgust he felt for the man standing behind Shelly, the boyfriend, whoring out the woman he supposedly loved for his own personal gain. 

“You’ll take good care of my girl?” Jimmy asked, looking back at Shelly and no doubt seeing pound signs, handing over his girlfriend to be used as nothing more than some brute of a man’s ground sheet. 

“Ready?” Jared asked, completely ignoring Jimmy, taking Shelly’s bag.

“Wait,” Shelley said, rushing back inside and retrieving a pyjama case shaped like a teddy bear from the bed, before being led to Jared’s car. “I don’t go anywhere without Theodore.”

Jared watched the way Shelly clung to the bear, sick to his stomach as Jimmy waved them off. He could already see Deacon rubbing his hands together at adding Shelly to his stable, young, beautiful blue eyes, long blonde hair and firm breasts. She’d bring a pretty penny no doubt, possibly even make up for losing Jensen, Jared wanting nothing more than for Deacon to forget about Jensen, perhaps, just maybe Shelly would help with that. He felt bad for trading Shelly for Jensen, but the bottom line was; she'd be hawking her wares with or without joining Deacon’s stable. If he could use her to make Deacon forget about Jensen, then Jared figured her fair game. 

Jared spent the next few weeks flitting between Paradise City and Jensen’s apartment, Jared as hooked on Jensen as Jensen was the drugs. It was becoming so bad that he couldn’t go a day without seeing him, dropping by late at night with pizza, Chinese takeaway or a burger. Seeing the benefit as Jensen started to gain a few pounds, his cheeks no longer sunken in, his pallor not ashen, he looked well, healthy, better than he had in the two years he’d been under Deacon’s grip. Jared remembered of how gorgeous Jensen really was. 

Jared wished he could say the same for Shelly, it had only been a month, but the difference in her appearance was shocking. Her hair had lost some of its shine, the dark shadows beneath her eyes and her cheekbones more prominent. The spunk Deacon approved of lost by the wayside, as she kept her head down and avoided eye contact with anyone, including Jared. That and she’d lost Jimmy, after he’d told her, it was over, and not in a good way. Jimmy deciding, with a little help from Jared that he didn’t want a whore for a girlfriend.

What made it more pathetic was the fact she never went anywhere without Theodore, trailing the bear behind her like a lost little girl, it was sad, even more so that some of the clientele thought it a turn on, it making her look younger than her nineteen years. 

She reminded him of… Jared shook his head, telling himself it was none of his business; she was a grown woman, who’d made her bed. 

He was still telling himself that when he let himself into Jensen’s apartment later that night, pulling back the duvet and climbing in beside Jensen, pulling him close, his hand resting on Jensen’s hip possessively, telling himself he’d just stay for a short while.

...

Jared squinted against the sunlight that filtered in through Jensen’s bedroom window and the feel of Jensen stirring bedside him, Jared’s morning wood pushing between Jensen’s ass cheeks. 

“Morning,” Jared whispered, taking a hold of his cock and rubbing it around Jensen’s entrance, sighing when Jensen opened up for him, taking everything Jared had to offer. Jared waited a moment to take in what was happening, the slow, almost tender way Jensen rocked back against him, no rush or need to get it done; just the steady, affectionate way Jensen took Jared in, and cradled his length. 

“So, how did you end up working for Deacon?” Jensen asked, biting a slice of toast and washing it down with a mouthful of black coffee. 

“It’s a long and sorry tale,” Jared said.

“I’m a whore. I deal in sorrow,” Jensen replied.

“My sister,” Jared began, placing his cup down and making coffee-stained rings on the small table. “I came to Los Angeles after she stopped taking my parents’ calls, or returning their emails.” 

Jensen sucked in a breath, already knowing where the story led. 

“She was working for Deacon. I barely recognised her when I found her,” Jared confessed sadly. “She’d lost weight, her hair lank and her skin as white as a sheet. Jared shook his head, the memories too much. “You know how it is.” 

Jensen did, all too well.

“I offered to buy her freedom, but Deacon wouldn’t take it. He said he’d trade places, me for her.” Jared said overwhelmed as the words just tumbled out. “At first I thought he meant become a part of his stable, but then he said he was in need of some muscle.” 

“And your sister?” Jensen asked. 

“She’s back in San Antonio with my parents. I signed a five-year contract, Deacon making it all too obvious that he knew where to find Kelly if I defaulted on the contract or didn’t pull my weight.”

Jensen was shocked at his reaction to Jared’s confession, wanting to pull Jared in and hold him, offer some comfort. 

“It’s not all bad,” Jared said, as Jensen rested his hand atop of Jared’s. “I can’t deny the money is good. Two more years and I’ll be returning to San Antonio with a hefty nest egg, enough to get me started with my own ranch.”

“You really think he’ll let you leave?” Jensen asked. 

“I should go,” Jared said, leaning forward to steel a kiss from Jensen before grabbing his jacket and tie, the answer laying heavy between them.

It was still early when Jared left Jensen’s apartment, deciding to take a drive through the zone. He hadn’t collected the previous day’s earnings and didn’t want those pounding the sidewalk to think he’d handed them a freebie. It all went well except for one who tried to short-change him, Jared knowing their tricks as he shoved a hand inside her panties and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. 

“Please, don’t tell Deacon.” The woman cried, genuine fear in her eyes. “Please, I have a baby to feed.” 

“No more tricks?” Jared demanded. 

“I swear.”

Jared nodded and watched as the woman adjusted her clothing and returned to her spot, before heading back to his car and making his way to Paradise City. He normally didn’t make his visit to Deacon until the afternoon, but wanting to get finished and head home for a shower and a change of clothes. He was walking over to Deacon’s office when Shelly came down the stairs, a john right behind her, his purple finger-shaped bruises adorning her throat, Jared recognised the john and knew his pleasure came from erotic asphyxiation. Shelly quickly looked away from Jared but not before Jared saw the abject misery in her eyes. 

Jared wanted to grab the man by the throat and see whether he liked the attention or not, but was dragged back to his senses when Deacon shouted for him to enter. 

“You’re early,” Deacon said, holding Jared’s gaze, and noticing the absence of a tie, something Jared prided himself on, being well turned out. 

“I got lucky,” Jared said, looking just to the left of Deacon’s shoulder.

“As long as that’s all it is,” Deacon said suspicion in his tone and facial features. 

“What else?” Jared said, holding his nerves and swallowing down the fear.

“You’ve been peppy the past few weeks,” Deacon pushed on. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

“Just someone I met at a bar,” Jared said, hoping Deacon left it at that. 

“Fair enough.” Deacon nodded, taking the wad of cash from Jared and waving him away. 

Jared weaved his way through the bar, shocked when Shelly lifted her gaze, and held Jared’s stare a pleading look about her face. He wanted so much to help her, but there was Jensen to think of and the fear of Deacon or some hired thug making a trip to San Antonio. He looked away, breaking eye contact and went on his way outside leaning against the closed door and taking a deep breath, before heading home. 

It was late when Jared pulled up outside of Jensen’s apartment, letting himself in with his key to find Jensen asleep on the sofa. He took a moment to drink in the sight before him. Jensen’s eyes were closed, hiding the most beautiful green eyes; his lashes so long they fanned out, his full lips and the pattern of cinnamon freckles that kissed his nose and cheeks.

“I can hear you staring from over here,” Jensen said his voice lazy with sleep. 

“Scoot over, I have food,” Jared proffered, placing the cartons of Szechwan Chilli Chicken, and spring rolls. 

“Good because I’m starved, but first I need something.”

Jared reached into his pocket and handed Jensen a bindle. He wanted to kick himself for forgetting, but Jensen looked so healthy now that he was being taken care of, his hair soft and smelling of apple-scented shampoo, colour in his cheeks and the smiles, which had begun to make an appearance. 

Jared had tried to fool himself into believing he was in a relationship and wasn’t paying for Jensen’s time or his body. 

The ugly truth was Jensen was an addict and Jared his dealer. 

Jared went into the kitchen to fetch the cutlery, trying to ignore what was going on in the other room, waiting for a few moments, giving Jensen enough time to do what he had to do so Jared could go back to pretending. 

“Have you thought of rehab?” Jared asked, taking a forkful of food. 

“I can’t afford it,” Jensen replied.

“But if you could?” Jared pushed.

“Do you think I like being a junkie?” Jensen demanded. “Like to have my life revolve around what I put in my veins or up my nose?” 

“Sorry, “Jared offered, seeing the pain in Jensen’s gaze.

“Don’t worry, you’re not the first person who thought they could heal me,” Jensen said sadly. 

Jared took a carton of food to occupy his mouth. He hadn’t meant to hurt Jensen, he only wondered what Jensen would be like without his need for a fix. What their relationship would be like, or if Jensen would even give him a second look if he wasn’t hooked on whatever Jared was peddling. 

Jared was still mulling over it when he said his goodnight, pulling out of Jensen’s street the dark saloon unseen as it followed Jared home. 

…

Jared walked into Paradise City the next day refreshed from a good night’s sleep and a skip in his step, glancing behind him when he heard the lock being jammed into place. He frowned at the two burly gorilla type men standing either side of the exit, finding two more either side of Deacon. 

“What the fuck?” Jared said, uneasy, but standing up straight. 

“Met at bar, huh?” 

Deacon waited for an answer, angry when Jared remained silent.

Jared stood his ground, taking in his surroundings as he scanned the bar, noticing Shelly, who was lurking among the shadows clutching Theodore, several whores turning around when Deacon raised his voice.

“How fucking dare you?” Deacon spat. “After everything I’ve done for you.”

“Such as?” Jared replied, trying not to be intimidated. “Whoring out my sister, almost ruining my family, and not forgetting threatening to drag Kelly back if I didn’t work for you and failed to make you money.” 

“You’ve got a nerve,” Deacon said nodding to the guys at the door, one of them walking over, seemingly casual until he lifted his foot up and brought it down on the back of Jared’s knee. 

“You knew he was mine,” Deacon raged, as Jared cried out in pain. “That I wanted him back, but instead you kept him from me, supplying his drugs, my drugs to help him with his independence.” Deacon so angry the spittle leaked down his chin as he continued to rant. “It was you!” 

Jared cried out a second time dropping to his knees as his legs were taken out from under him. 

“You gave him the money to buy his freedom.” Deacon pushed himself up from the sofa and ate up the distance to where Jared knelt. “I ought to kill you right now,” Deacon said, taking a hold of Jared’s chin and forcing him to look Deacon in the face. 

“Call him,” Deacon demanded his fingers gripping so tight Jared’s cheeks were already beginning to bruise. 

“I won’t,” Jared said refusing to bend to Deacon. 

“You,” Deacon bellowed as he marched across the room to where Shelly was hiding, and dragged her over, shoving her down onto her knees and pulling a gun from the waistband of his pants and pressing it to Shelly’s temple. 

“Call him or she dies.”

“Please, Jared, just call him,” Shelly pleaded, gripping Theodore tightly to her chest. 

“Yes Jared, call him,” Deacon parroted. 

Jared fidgeted around in his pocket trying not to wince at the pain when he took his phone out and dialled Jensen’s number. 

“Jensen run!” Jared shouted as soon as the call connected, having just got the words out when Deacon snatched the phone. 

“Ackles.”

“Deacon,” Jensen gasped, the one word tumbling from his lips. 

“If you want to see your boyfriend alive and in one piece you’ll get your ass over here,” Deacon warned the words sounding like shards of ice as Deacon made his threats. 

“Don’t hurt him,” Jensen pleaded. 

“You have an hour,” Deacon warned.

Jensen panicked, using what little money he had to call a cab to take him to Paradise City, almost falling over his own feet as he scrambled from the car and finding the door to the whorehouse locked. He used his fists to pound on the door, hoping Jared wasn’t hurt, reeling back when one of the goons ushered him inside. 

“Get your ass over here,” Deacon demanded waiving the gun in the direction of Jared. “And you,” Deacon continued, grabbing a hold of Shelly’s bear, pulling it from her grip and throwing it across the room, gritting his teeth as she scrambled to get it back. “What is it with you and that fucking bear?” 

“Are you okay?” Jensen said, watching the way Jared was knelt his left leg at an unusual angle, Jensen assumed it was broken.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Jared said, the look of fear evident when he looked up at Jensen.

“How could I not?” Jensen asked.

“Enough!” Deacon bellowed, towering over both Jared and Jensen, Shelly blended into the background. 

“Now here’s how it’s going to be,” Deacon said, waiving the gun between Jared and Jensen. “You are going to come back until a time I see fit to release you, or you die, whichever comes first.” 

“You might as well as put a bullet in me now because there’s no way that’s going to happen,” Jared interrupted. “Like they say, over my dead body.” 

“You come back,” Deacon said almost friendly. “You come back or I pump Jared so full of drugs he won’t know which way is up. Until he’s begging for whatever morsel I dish out to him.” 

Jensen remained rooted to the spot, as Deacon continued. 

“How about it Jared, you ready to join the lick hitters?” 

“You wouldn’t,” Jensen gasped, terrified Deacon would make good with his threats, wanting nothing more than to grab Jared and make a run for it, but they’d never make it far with Jared’s broken leg. Jensen was fooling himself; they wouldn't get to the door before Deacon put a bullet in them both. 

“If I sign, you’ll let him go?” Jensen pleaded realising for the first time how much Jared had come to mean to him. 

“He’ll be your collateral,” Deacon said, eye balling Jensen. “You do as I say, when I say otherwise Jared suffers.”

“Don’t do it,” Jared implored. “Please Jensen, I’m begging you.” 

“Shut your fucking mouth!” Deacon spat, pointing his gun toward Jensen, and taking his eye off Jared, who used the opportunity to pull his gun from the waistband of his trousers, shooting the goon to his left, watching as he went down onto his knees, Jared turning the gun on the one to Deacon’s right. 

“Let him go!” Jared shouted above the confusion, everyone turning his or her attention to the gunfire. 

“Drop the gun!” Deacon shouted back. “Or I ventilate his head.” 

Jared wavered, all eyes turned on him, hoping, praying he’d free them all from Deacon’s grip, everyone watching, waiting to see what Jared would do, oblivious to Shelly, who unzipped the opening of Theodore’s back, reaching inside and pulling out a pocket pistol. She was scared, the tears staining her cheeks, the ache in her heart, matching the ache from the many bruises, the very real terror of living her meagre existence under Deacon's rule. 

She’d hung on every day wondering if this would be the day, waiting for Deacon to mess up, present a moment’s weakness…

“I said, drop it right the fuck now!” Deacon shouted, cocking back the gun and curling his finger around the trigger. The bang when it came was unexpected, the blood seeping from the hole in Deacon’s forehead as he dropped to his knees before crumpling to the floor at Jensen’s feet. 

“That’s for my Jimmy,” Shelly cried, wiping the tears and snot from her face. 

“Oh my God,” Delia said, clamping her hand to her mouth. “Is he dead?” 

“You killed him,” Chantelle said as everyone gathered around Deacon’s body. Jensen helped Jared find his feet, Deacon’s goons stepping back, and away, putting distance between themselves and everyone else in the room. 

“Give me your gun,” Jared said holding his hand out to Shelly. “Give me your gun,” Jared repeated, when Shelly remained rooted to the spot, Jensen peeling her fingers from the gun, grabbing a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping it clean. “Drag that body over here,” Jared continued, pointing to the goon he’d shot, Jensen dragging him to where Shelly had been standing, Jared swapping the goon’s gun for Shelly’s.

“What are you doing?” Jensen asked. 

“We’re going to call the cops. That's if they’re not already on their way,” Jared replied. “To anyone except those in this room, they shot each other.” 

Jared watched as some nodded their heads, others still in shock. “If you want to point the blame at Shelly, just remember one thing.” Jared paused for effect. “She’s just bought everyone in this room their freedom.” 

Jared took a moment for Shelly’s actions to sink in, everyone turning frightened eyes to Jared when there was a loud pounding on the door. 

“Police, open up.” 

Jensen stepped back from where he was helping Jared, holding his weight so as he wouldn’t crumple to the floor, helping Jared over to the sofa before unlocking the door and allowing the cops entry. 

“We’ve had reports of gunfire.” One officer said, walking into the room and taking stock of the two dead bodies. “Are there any more?”

“Just the two of them,” Jared said. 

“Anyone injured?”

“A broken leg, nothing to worry about,” Jared confessed. “I got between them both, trying to stop it, but… it was a war over who ruled the combat zone.” 

“I can’t say we’re not sorry to see Deacon catch his own.” A second cop said. 

“Ain’t that the truth?” A third officer added. “The paramedics are a few minutes out. I'll advise we need the coroner.”

Everyone took their cue from Jared, taking a seat on the sofas or the bar, everyone instructed to stay until they’d given their names and addresses. Most lived at Paradise City, save for Jensen and the three remaining goons, who looked as happy to see Deacon dead as everyone else. Jared wasn’t surprised knowing most of Deacon’s security only worked for the brute because he threatened them with something they cherished as he did with Jared.

Jared caught Jensen’s attention as the cops began taking everyone’s details; Shelly looked to Jared when she offered her name, receiving a smile in return.

“There’s a safe in Deacon’s office,” Jared told Jensen where he could find the safe and its combination. “It’s where he keeps his spare change; I reckon you’ve more than earned it.” 

“And you?” Jensen asked. 

“I have plenty, enough for what I need; besides Kelly is safe, that’s all the payment I need,” Jared smiled, a huge genuine smile, which coaxed out his dimples. 

“Oh, my,” Jensen beamed.

“What is it?” Jared asked, looking around as the paramedics made their way into the room. 

“It’s you. You’re beautiful,” Jensen replied almost as if he was looking at Jared for the first time. 

Jared grinned at Jensen’s words, his attention snatched from his moment of happiness when the paramedics lifted Jared onto the gurney and toward the waiting ambulance. 

…

Jensen dragged the bag of money from under his bed and counted it for the umpteenth time, two hundred grand, an ample amount for rehab and enough to settle himself somewhere else. He tried not to think of the money as the cause of people’s misery. The police would only confiscate it, better some gain come from it. He took out ten thousand and put it in an envelope, padding quietly to Mitchell’s apartment, placing it on the floor and rapping his knuckles on Mitchell’s door before heading back to his own apartment.

He had only been back a second when there was a knock on his door, Jensen expecting to find Mitchell there, shocked to see Jared standing at his open door, leg cast and all. 

“You didn’t use your key,” Jensen said, having not seen Jared since Deacon’s death. 

“It didn’t seem right,” Jared replied, limping into Jensen’s apartment and closing the door behind him. “I wanted to check you were okay?” 

“I’m good, better than,” Jensen said, his smile a mile wide. 

“Also, I wanted to say good-bye,” Jared said, ripping Jensen’s smile from his face. 

“I’m going to rehab,” Jensen rushed to say, almost as if it would stop Jared from leaving, Jensen admitting to himself for the first time just how much he wanted Jared. 

“You don’t know how happy that makes me,” Jared admitted, the joy evident in his tone of voice and the smile that brightened his face. “And then what?” 

“I don’t know,” Jensen began, taking a deep breath. “There’s this guy whose heart is set on a ranch in San Antonio.” 

“Yeah,” Jared said, stepping forward, a small step. 

“I’ve recently come into some money. I was wondering,” Jensen stalled before finding his balls and pushing on. “I was thinking of ploughing it into the ranch, equal shares.”

Jared took another step, his mood lifted, the fist that had been squeezing his heart for the past two years, and more recently days removed. 

“What do you think?” Jensen dared ask. 

“I think,” Jared began, grabbing Jensen’s shirt and dragging him the final inch that separated them. “This guy must be the luckiest person in the world.”


End file.
